


His Horse

by CasterShell



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Ghost of Tsushima - Act 2 Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Past Character Death, Survivor Guilt, past/referenced animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasterShell/pseuds/CasterShell
Summary: After Kage was killed escaping Castle Shimura and Jin nearly died of poison, Yuna gave him a nameless brown nag to retake Jogaku temple.  At first Jin didn’t think much of the mangy beast.  But over their journey they’ve grown on each other.  One day Jin realizes he won’t replace this one, he couldn’t ever replace this one, it was his horse.
Relationships: Jin Sakai & Yuna
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	His Horse

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know if I’m the first one to put two and two together because I stared for hours at horse coat colors while replaying the game, or if I’m just not hanging around the right Ghost of Tsushima fan circles and everyone else already figured this out. But here’s my personal theory about the horse Jin gets at the start of Act 3, with a giant side of angst and mourning… Because this is Ghost of Tsushima and Jin isn’t allowed to be happy. :/ Poor Jin.

Jin stood in front of the stable at Jogaku temple. Yuna had somehow procured two fat and healthy samurai horses that hadn’t starved in the Kamiagata cold. They must have been brough up north by Masako or Ishikawa through fort Kaminodake. They were the same horses from Komoda village, somehow hale and whole after all this time, their coats gleamed black as midnight and white as fresh snow. But Jin’s current horse was there too, standing placidly in the back of the stable, its brown body and black mane and tail bedecked in samurai tack matching the two healthier mounts. Jin could tell from the color it was Kage’s tack that he’d stripped and hidden himself in the trees near his loyal friend’s grave before burying his best equine companion at the roadside. Yuna must have retrieved it at some point because he certainly hadn’t. He’d go back at some point, once Tsushima was free, to Kage’s, Taka’s, all the other graves to pay proper respects.

Since the invasion had happened Jin was getting far too good at that; burying bodies. He’d helped bury Masako’s sons, Shigesato and Yasunari, and Taka, and Kage. He couldn’t bury all of them though, all the corpses that littered the fields and woods like morbid wildflowers, or he’d have no time to liberate the island. Jin was surrounded by so much death. Now he was about to go to what may well be his own if he wasn’t stealthy; sneaking in to Castle Shimura to leave a letter for his uncle meant a death sentence if he was caught. But Jin was stealthy. He’d gotten far too good at being stealthy, far too good for any honorable samurai to be at slinking through the shadows. He’d written and discarded several draft letters to that effect apologizing to his uncle.

Jin was no longer a samurai.

He’d murdered from the shadows and stabbed men in the back, he’d used poison, and worst of all he’d disobeyed his uncle, his lord, the Jito. Jin was no samurai, and nothing he did could ever atone for his crimes, not in the eyes of the shogun and not in the eyes of his uncle. Still he had to hope some frayed thread of love remained that would bring his uncle and the mainland samurai to Port Izumi to finally route the Khan.

After everything he’d done did Jin still even deserve a samurai horse? Jin walked to the back of the stables, past the black and the white, to the bay. Jin had been doing his best for the poor horse, trying to fatten it up from skin and bones and picking out the lice that never stopped multiplying. Despite his best efforts not to get attached he was growing fond of the creature. He was getting feelings for it, feelings other than his skin crawling with lice whenever he dismounted. 

But maybe he should pick a proper samurai steed, in defiance of his banishment and disgrace. A silky jet black that would shine in the sunlight. A radiant white that would become dusty after five seconds on the road. Those two were proper samurai steeds, they’d been kept south and not had to face the harsh winter, they could run for hours carrying a heavily armored body with ease. Yet, somehow, Jin was drawn to the thin bay. The common boring everyday bay. They were a mon a dozen on Tsushima, nearly too many too count, like little brown grains of rice with black manes and tails; and they continually came in to Jin’s life. The runty pony he had learned on was a bay, his horse at Komoda had been a bay, Taka’s horse after escaping Azamo Bay was a bay, one of lady Masako’s personal mounts, and even Norio’s horse were all bays. 

Maybe what he secretly wanted was to blend in, to just be like everyone else. Jin raised a hand to brush a patch of fur on the Bay’s withers that was slowly growing back in, it was becoming thick and plush and long for the winter. The shortened, broken, louse chewed hairs were slowly dying and being replaced; a few stuck to Jin’s fingers when he pulled his hand away.

Or maybe he was associating bay horses with death. He’d been on a bay when he nearly died under it at Komoda beach. He’d been carried away by Yuna on this same mangy bay after nearly dying of poison, poison he gave to the Mongols in spoiled airag. There was something about these black and brown horses and a link to death… and yet, Jin always somehow managed to live. He should have been dead a hundred times over; he should have faced down his father’s killers and died at his side with honor, he should have died with his brethren at Komoda beach, or alone in the ocean after being defeated by Khotun Khan. And death seemed followed Jin, humans falling like harvested grasses, horses falling like slaughtered meat. Jin left a trail of other men’s blood and corpses wherever he went, and yet he always lived. His horse had died on the beach and Jin had lived. Taka had died and Jin lived on to avenge him. Kage had died and Jin hadn’t. And now, somehow, with this brown nag Jin lived on once more.

Jin walked up to the head of the bay he’d been affectionately calling ‘Thin Brown’, he got a hard but affectionate headbutt to his chest. By now he expected it and was able to brace himself, bringing up his hands to scratch cheeks and neck and mane as was expected by his steed. This felt right. Before he even knew what he was doing Jin had mounted the nag. “What a good horse,” he whispered reaching down to pat the still boney withers as he settled his feet in the stirrups.

Yuna sniffed.

Jin looked at her, standing in the snow wrapped in furs while the wind tugged at her hair. Maybe her nose was running from the cold? No, that couldn’t be it because she’d just rubbed at her eyes. Jin slowly coaxed the horse forward, he kept his eyes on Yuna as he approached, then it hit him.

‘What a good horse.’

“What a good horse,” Taka had whispered when he mounted the bay Kenji had brought with him to the crossroads after they escaped Azamo Bay. He had said it softly then, like he was coming out of a dream, like sitting astride a horse was a rare treat he never expected; much like being rescued from the Mongol prison camp. 

The horse back then had stood solid and still for Taka to mount, despite the blacksmith being unsteady and weak after his ordeal. The horse stood solid for Jin no matter how awkwardly he leapt on to it in a rush during or after a battle. The horse had headbutted Taka when he’d dismounted from it at Archers’ Rise, despite his weakened state Taka had enough muscle that he laughed the shove off and scratched under the mane apologetically for not having treats, both of them leaning their weight in to each other and the horse’s ears swiveling inquisitively with every word Taka breathed out. This horse had bruised Jin repeatedly and winded him more than once with his demands for treats and scratches, his ears always flicked towards Jin and pricket to attention whenever he spoke. The bay horse Kenji had procured had been well trained, to carry Taka as far as Archers’ Rise in his unskilled and injured state. This horse had been well trained too, to let Jin do everything he’d needed in the heat of combat, from slashing at footmen, to shooting arrows, and even leaping off its back to strike panicked Mongol raiding parties. 

Thin Brown stopped. The horse something was wrong. Jin wondered at that, his horse stopping because it sensed something was wrong. His horse was well trained. _His_ horse was well trained.

It was his horse.

Jin thought through it all again. This time putting voice to his musings. He was afraid of the answer, but he needed to know. “It was his horse,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Jin already knew. It was Taka’s horse.

Yuna answered anyway. “Yes.”

Jin slumped forward. He wasn’t going to cry, he was just going to pet his horse’s- Taka’s horse’s withers. So Jin scratched the fur with his blunt fingernails and his head bent against it, his face buried in its mane. There was snow falling, that was what was wetting his cheeks; certainly not his own tears. 

Jin had lost so much; all Tsushima’s samurai, his friends and brothers in arms, he’d lost Taka, Ryuzo, his uncle’s love, his horse Kage, his home and his status. He could cry. Just a little. For that much grief. At having this one thing to keep, this one thing to keep that reminded him of everything he’d lost and everything he was fighting for. Jin let himself let go for a moment, let all the emotions drain from his eyes and his chest on to those strong solid shoulders and back that had carried him across the whole of Kamiagata. The horse stood still and unshifting, letting Jin cry silently against it. Jin sniffed back a sob and wondered if Taka had done the same while riding to Komatsu, or maybe before Yarikawa.

“Yuna.” Jin said, face still buried in Kaze’s mane. Taka had called Thin Brown Kaze, Jin had overheard Taka when he was brushing the horse once at Komatsu forge, Jin would honor Taka’s memory by keeping the name. “I swear I will keep him safe.” It was a gift for Yuna to trust Jin with this horse that she’d kept since after Fort Koyasan.

“It won’t bring him back,” Yuna said, her voice numb with cold and grief.

“I know,” this time Jin’s words were choked. Nothing would bring Taka back… but he could still preserve this one thing. He could spoil this horse and make up for everything he couldn’t do for Taka. This was the brave steed that had carried Taka like the wind away from Fort Koyasan. If only Taka hadn’t come back. If only for once Kaze had been a bad horse and disobeyed.

Jin had wondered, at first, why Yuna had been keeping the scrawny half-starved bay nag. It could have fed itself more if she’d let it loose in the frozen north. It could have fed her if she’d cut its throat. Now Jin realized that despite her feigned apathy she couldn’t bear to leave it behind in Toyotama. Now neither could he. Emotions aside, it was good horse with a smooth trot, soft mouthed and responsive, highly attuned to its rider. Jin could calm the horse with a gesture, and thinking back to his activities in Kamiagata it had done the same for him. Kaze was a comforting wind at his back.

Jin patted Kaze a final time and sat up straight. He was a proper samurai on his steed. Except he was no samurai and this was no warhorse, and that was the way it should be.

“What a good horse,” Jin again repeated, soft and calming. The horse stood stock still beneath him, ears pricked back attentively to see if he had more to say.

Yuna smiled softly up at him, there were tears in her eyes too, but she wouldn’t comment on his if he didn’t comment on hers. They understood each other from their first meeting, and shared grief had only brought them closer. In the few weeks he’d known her Jin knew he never wanted to leave her side.

“Jin,” she started to say something.

“Hmmm?” Jin nodded and Kaze shifted to focus on Yuna, ears pricking and swiveling attentively.

She shook her head, whatever it had been she’d changed her mind, “It’s nothing, Jin. Go to your uncle.”

Jin nodded. The letter beneath his armor was a burning brand against his skin. Full of words he wanted to say, words he couldn’t say, to his uncle; at least not in person. Those unsaid things combined with this new revelation about Kaze made Jin think he knew what Yuna was going to say to him.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ perhaps? He knew that would be what she said, if anything. Despite that, Jin knew that to be a lie. They both knew Taka’s death was his fault. Somehow Yuna didn’t blame him. She was too good for that. Then again, neither of them had control over Taka’s choices. He was, or had been, a grown man. After all he’d endured, he was his own man, free of his past and free to choose how to live the rest of his life. And he’d chosen to help Jin. His last act was his own free choice to fight, to try and save Jin and their home. So. Despite whoever Yuna decided to blame. Despite whoever deserved the blame. Jin blamed himself. But maybe that hadn’t been what she was going to say… 

Maybe it would have been, ‘Stay safe.’ They were both protective people after all. Jin had felt that protective urge the moment he’d met Taka. Seeing him crumpled on the ground, hearing the tremor in his voice, seeing him shy away when Jin only wanted to help; in those moments Jin had sworn to protect him, and to make himself someone worthy of Taka’s trust. That must have been what Yuna felt her entire life, the urge to do anything to protect him. And yet… In so doing Jin had led the young man to his doom. Taka would have been better a coward and alive than courageous but only a memory. Clearly Taka had disagreed, and being his own man, he’d made his choice.

But that was true of all those Jin had lost, his father, Taka, Ryuzo... Everyone had been free, to fight or to flee. And yet, despite their individual agency their deaths all seemed so meaningless. What was the point of this war? Jin was going to end it. Quickly. So no one else would have to make such difficult choices. Jin would save Tsushima by doing what he had to, even if it meant sacrificing everything he had left. 

Jin rode his horse, Taka’s horse, towards Castle Shimura. 

**Author's Note:**

> Mon: is a unit of currency, and is not period currency, but it sounds closer to being period than yen. In the Kamakura era business was primarily based on a barter system, though imported coins from China were also used. Prior to the Kamakura era Japan did mint their own currency though this fell out of common use by the time of Ghost of Tsushima. Japan later minted the mon and other forms of coinage.
> 
> Bay horses: are brown over the body with black points, manes, and tails. They can have other markings which may obscure the points and still be considered bay colored. 
> 
> The line “What a good horse,” is actually said by Taka in game, but the game creators didn’t subtitle it so it’s easy to miss! I think it took me three run throughs of that mission to hear it? *grumble mutter and general complaints about accessibility and the need for universal captions on background dialog so I don’t need to chase and hover over NPCs to try and listen to them with the volume cranked up because there are no captions for background dialog.* >:(   
> I love this game but I wish there were subtitles for minor/background NPCs. There's good worldbuilding there, it's just really hard to hear!


End file.
